


Only Tony Gets What A Sick Natasha Wants

by wordjunket



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers trying (and failing) to help, Couch Cuddles, Gen, Sick Natasha is scary, Sickfic, Tony&Tasha are bffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 13:36:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2509637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordjunket/pseuds/wordjunket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha’s way of dealing with a cold involves denial, hiding, and a little bit more denial. <br/>Luckily, Tony gets it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Tony Gets What A Sick Natasha Wants

**Author's Note:**

> Another Avengerskink fill, though just a quick little one this time. Original link over here: http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/19458.html?thread=46870530#t46870530

The first indicator that something was off came in the evening. Clint and Bruce were sitting at the kitchen table having a late dinner when they heard Natasha come into the room. Two pairs of eyes went to the red-haired woman in surprise, eyebrows raised. 

She either hadn’t noticed them (unlikely), or was ignoring them (likely). 

Observing silently, the two men couldn’t keep the surprise off their faces at what was almost a shuffle as she moved to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water and began to walk – shuffle – out of the kitchen. 

“Tasha?” Clint called out cautiously. “You alright?” 

He expected her to either ignore him completely or ask him what he was talking about. The sudden venomous glare directed at him was almost enough to send him scampering under the table and had definitely caused some new SHIELD recruits to wet themselves at some point. 

“I’m fine.” She snapped, but there was something wrong with her voice, almost a gravel quality to it. 

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked; Clint shot him a look clearly wondering if he was the most fearless man on Earth or just plain stupid. 

“Because you sound like you’re coming down with something.” Bruce continued; going into doctor-mode which somehow made him immune to the murderous stare now directed his way. Honestly, if looks could kill, Bruce would have been six-feet under several times over by now. 

“I’m not sick.” She fairly growled, before turning and quickly disappearing from the room. 

“Man, the next few days are going to suck,” Clint slumped in his seat. “Last time Tasha was sick she broke someone’s arm and made a senior filed agent cry.” 

* 

Steve had been immersed in punching the Stark-Tec bag in front of him for almost an hour when he was suddenly pulled from his state of repetition by an odd noise. Catching the bag as it swung back towards him, he allowed his eyes to roam around the gym in search of the noise that had broken his almost trance-like state. 

When he’d started, Thor had been doing weights off to the side and Clint had been on the running machine with his earphones in. Looking around him, Steve found both Thor and Clint had since left, but Natasha had appeared sometime in between and set up on one of the floor mats where – if Steve guessed based on previous experience – she was probably doing some kind of marshal arts training that involved moving very slowly and precisely. 

However, at the moment, slow and precise were not two words that Steve would use to describe her. She was bent in half, hands resting on her knees, as she seemed to be trying to cough up her lungs. 

“Natasha? You alright?” Steve called out, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his arm as he stepped away from the bag and towards her. 

“I-I’m fine-“ she broke off into another series of coughs, though this time she managed to move over and grab her water bottle, taking a large gulp of water that seemed to calm down the coughing fit to a few stragglers. 

“Maybe you should take a break?” Steve suggested. 

The suddenly furious look directed at him almost made him take a step backwards. 

“Or not?” He offered, bemused. 

“I’m not sick!” She snapped, grabbing her towel and quickly exiting the gym before Steve could think to stop her. 

“I never said you were.” He said lamely to the empty room. 

* 

When Thor went to use the cosy den room with the biggest TV in the tower the next morning, he was pulled up short by the sight of a scrunched up Black Widow in the corner of the couch, only the top half of her face visible over a fluffy blanket. Her eyes were all he had to see before immediately backing out of the room as the vibes of ‘Get Out’ and ‘Leave Me Alone’ almost overwhelmed him. 

Thor instead headed for the kitchen where the rest of his Avenger brethren could be found. 

“My friends, do you know what ales fair Natasha?” He asked, a frown on his face. Steve, Clint and Bruce stopped what they were doing and looked up at him, frowns mirroring on their own faces. 

“I’m pretty sure she’s got the flu and as such is delighting us with why exactly people at SHIELD are terrified of her.” Clint said, bowl of cereal held in his hands. 

“I heard her coughing in the gym last night, it sounded pretty painful.” Steve offered from where he was washing dishes in the sink; a wince crossing his face at the memories of his own painful coughing fits from when he was younger. 

“Maybe we should make her some chicken soup and get some medicine for her.” Bruce said thoughtfully, his notebook that he had been scribbling formula in now abandoned as his mind moved from biological experimentation to thinking of which medication to pick up for her. 

“She should have some blankets and tissues.” Steve mused, drying off his hands as if to go immediately and get some. 

“We’ll need fluids as well. Some herbal tea or something.” Clint mused, pulling himself to his feet and moving to dump his bowl in the sink.

“I shall lend her my fur blanket, little in this realm is more comforting.” Thor said eagerly, turning to leave and retrieve it. 

“She probably just wants to be left alone.” Tony finally spoke, not looking up from where he had been fiddling with something on his tablet for the entire conversation. 

“Tony, she’s sick. No one wants to be left alone when they’re sick.” Steve shook his head at Tony as if he had said something ridiculous. 

“Sure, you keep telling yourselves that.” Tony’s voice was almost amused. 

Ignoring their resident genius, the other Avengers mobilised. 

* 

“I just don’t understand,” Steve’s voice was coloured with confusion, staring down at the chicken soup now half spilled on Bruce’s shirt. “We have everything a sick person could want but she threw us all out.”

“I know I sure wouldn’t turn down blankets, medicine and chicken soup if I was sick.” Clint grumbled, the Styrofoam cup of herbal tea he’d gotten from the corner Starbucks held in his hands. 

“Indeed, perhaps brother Tony was correct?” Thor rumbled miserably, his fur blanket hanging limply over his arm. 

“She can’t just hole up in the den for the entire time she’s sick.” Bruce said exasperatedly; the bowl containing the remainder of the chicken soup held tightly in his hands. 

“Idiots,” Tony’s voice called out from where he was standing at the mouth of the hallway, looking at the other Avengers as if they were complete and total morons. 

“If you’re so smart, you figure out what to do.” Clint snapped, irritation clear in both his voice and stance. 

Sighing, Tony walked over to them and took the fur blanket from Thor and without an ounce of hesitation, entered the room. The others waited for the horse yelling or the sound of something being thrown followed by Tony’s quick retreat; but it never happened. 

Tony reappeared a moment later, sans fur blanket, and took both Clint’s herbal tea and the remainder of Bruce’s soup, stuffing the container of medicine into his pocket before returning to the den. When he re-emerged empty handed once more, he took the blankets and tissues from Steve before levelling them all with a serious look. 

“Okay, you’ve all had your moment of chivalry and delivered your gifts, how about you leave her alone now.” 

Not waiting for a reply, Tony was once more back into the den, leaving four gobsmacked faces behind. 

* 

“I hate being sick.” Natasha groaned softly, shifting her head slightly on where it rested on Tony’s chest. 

“Everyone hates being sick.” Tony agreed, eyes on the TV before them as some ridiculously predictable romcom played out. 

“I shouldn’t get sick,” she continued, in a voice very close to a whine, but Tony was sympathetic enough to her miserable state that he choose not to comment on it. 

“True, being the badass assassin-ninja that you are, germs should see you and run the other way.”

Natasha actually snorted at that, unfortunately sending herself into a coughing fit. Tony pushed her up into a sitting position, keeping her steady as she hacked and spluttered. When it finally subsided, leaving her slightly breathless, Tony handed her one of the bottles of water that were resting at his feet, beside the empty Styrofoam cup and soup bowl. 

“You are disgusting.” Tony said; voice tinged with amusement as she shot him a glare. 

“Jerk. This sucks,” she miserably sighed once she’d sipped at the water. 

“Well, it’ll be gone soon enough with the medicine Bruce got you.” Tony took the bottle form her and returned it to the floor, leaning over to pull the pile of blankets on the couch over her as she rested back again, head finding his chest once more. 

“Being sick should die in a hole. I’d hit it with my Widow’s Bite if it were possible, see it try to come after me then,” She grumbled, one hand coming up to stroke the soft fur adorning the top blanket. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Tony grinned, amused by her complaints. 

“I shouldn’t have yelled at them.” She said after a moment of watching the main woman in the movie have an over-the-top wail about how her life was clearly over without her beau by her side. 

“Probably not. But I get just wanting to be left alone for a bit when you feel like crap.” Tony easily agreed, hand reaching over to feel her forehead. 

“Then how’d you get to stay?” She pushed his hand away. 

“We’re bros’, Tasha. And as per the bro-code, nothing extremely embarrassing can be retold by the bro on the condition that the bro experiencing the embarrassment is legitimately unwell. I’m practically sworn to secrecy about what you’re really like when you get all gross and grouchy.” 

“You’re so full of shit, I don’t even think that made sense.” She muttered, causing him to laugh, her head bouncing slightly with the motion.

“Hey, you should be supporting this idea. You really want me to tell everyone you’re all cuddled up to me and wearing fuzzy socks?” Tony asked, looking pointedly at where he could just see the tip of her toes encased in said fuzzy socks. 

“Shut up, no one would believe you.” She poked his thigh, hard. 

“Oi! Abuse! You’re supposed to be sick, stop with the poking me and get with the sleeping.” Tony, much more gently, poked her cheek.

Yawning, she snuggled down slightly, fingers tightening in the fur. 

“Tony?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You’re a good bro.”


End file.
